


Tag, You're it

by lacepirate



Series: Drabbles, Ramblings, Ideas & More [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Healing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Father/Son Incest, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Molestation, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Tags May Change, child psychologist!steven strange, child psychologist!tony, psychological healing, questionable morals, relationship is not established until he is over 18, relationship to come later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-21 11:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacepirate/pseuds/lacepirate
Summary: A journey of abuse and healing, told in three parts.-where in Quentin is Peter's biological father, and had started to groom him at a young age.despite everything that's happened to him, Tony can't help but feel hopeful for the boy with bright eyes and a big heart.





	1. Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> **please read this if you skipped the entirety of the tags**
> 
> this is going to get pretty dark pretty fast. it involves childhood sexual abuse and molestation. please consider yourself and your triggers first, I want you and your wellbeing to always come first. with that being said, if you've come this far, and decide to leave, I encourage you to do so, and i'm proud of your for setting those boundaries for yourself.
> 
> this is a work of fiction in every sense of the word, I do not condone or encourage any type of underage abuse, sexual or otherwise. but I believe wholeheartedly in not censoring art. this is also more or less an exploratory piece of expression for myself. please heed all of the warnings.

Peter doesn’t remember things linearly anymore. He’ll remember small and seemingly insignificant details at the oddest and most inopportune times. 

Like how he doesn’t really remember actually  _ telling  _ the school counsellor at all, but he remembers the faint smell of her perfume in the cramped space that she was allotted, and he remembers playing with a string off of the chair he was sitting on; pulling at it continuously just to give his hands something to do. He didn’t understand why she was asking him about Play Time so much! Did his friends have to answer a whole bunch of questions like that too? He only mentioned it once, it’s not like it was important or anything. 

The counselors were methodically working through all of the other kids in his grade too, and Peter also remembers how excited he and his friends were to be called out of class time to talk about middle school stuff. He realized later, of course, that it was supposed to address any issues that anyone may have in the transition to middle school. Because at the time, it seemed kind of important. 

He remembers walking home from school like normal, a few weeks after that conversation with his school counselor, just as normal as he expected it to be. Kicking stray rocks and pebbles on the sidewalk for as long as he could without straying his path, and even stopping to pick up a couple stray flowers growing from in between the cracks just because he thought they were pretty. Daddy would like them, surely. Daddy’s always liked pretty things. 

He remembers walking in the front door, and greeting Daddy in the kitchen with a great big smile, showing him the flowers he picked, presenting them in his outstretched fist. Daddy smiled and thanked him, and as he came closer, he brushed his curls off of his forehead and held them back with his hand as his lips met Peter’s forehead. He remembers his cheeks heating and the sinking feeling in his stomach when Daddy pulled back and placed his lips on Peter’s cheek too. 

“They’re so pretty Peter, thank you.” He said. 

Peter nods with a smile, trying to slip away from Daddy’s hold. 

“Do you have homework to do today, kiddo?” Peter hears him call from the kitchen, and he’s already pulling books out of his bag and bringing them to the living room.

“Yeah, got  _ english  _ again.” he says with a hiss, because he’s never been too fond of it. He prefers science any day. Even math was better than english. 

He hears Daddy cuckle. 

He remembers being particularly stuck on his homework when there was a knock on the door, and of course Peter ran to grab it because anything would be better than having to do  _ english _ . 

“I got it!” Peter yells back toward the kitchen.

“No, Pete, I told you-” but it’s a little too late for him to finish his sentence because Peter already has the door open.

“-Not to open the door without me….” Daddy trails off when he looks out of the now open doorway. 

There’s policemen at the door. Peter can’t remember exactly how many, but there were enough to realize now that they were probably expecting a fight. 

“C-can I help you?” Daddy sounded nervous. He’s never heard his Daddy sound nervous before. 

The two policemen at the front door seem to ignore him and look straight to Peter. He watches as the one policeman crouches down, sitting on his haunches to get to Peter’s eye level (which wasn’t very high). 

“Hey bud, what’s your name? I’m Officer Barnes,” the policeman leans in close to him to whisper conspiratorially. “But you can call me Bucky.”

Peter can’t help but smile, he’d always been a sociable kid. 

“I’m Peter!” and in the gap of time after Peter answered Bucky’s question, he could hear the other officer talking. 

_ “Are you Quentin Beck?” _

_ “Is something wrong, officer?” _

Bucky continues and asks him questions like how old he is, where he goes to school, what subject he likes best (to which he enthusiastically answers science), and then Bucky asks if he’s working on anything cool right now in school. Peter’s face lights up when he rushes inside to grab his backpack to show him Bucky his science worksheets and continues to tell him all about how they’re learning about all different kinds of bugs and insects and shows him his favourite ones about the spiders. 

Bucky did his job pretty well, because Peter didn’t notice anything until his Daddy started yelling, and when he turned to look, he was on his knees and the other officer was handcuffing him.

Of course, Peter then started to yell, which quickly escalated to crying, and that’s when Bucky stopped Peter from running to his Daddy. Bucky had to hold Peter back until he was done telling him that he wasn’t allowed to see his Daddy right now. Peter stopped fighting, but he didn’t stop crying. Without much for comfort, and nothing he could do as he watched his Daddy being taken away out the front door, he turned to Bucky. 

Bucky picked him up, and held him while he cried into Bucky’s shoulder. 

It turns into a little bit of a blur after that though, but he does remember some things. Like how Bucky let him ride in the police car, and let him play with the lights and the siren that made the chirping noise. 

He remembers where Bucky brought him in the police station, and he showed Peter where they all ate donuts and drank coffee. Bucky put him in an office-type room for just a minute, and when he came back, he had all kinds of goodies. There were even some small Halloween sized chocolate bars that Bucky said was a secret because he snuck them in there just for Peter. Then, Bucky pulled a silvery-blue Gameboy out of his pocket, asking Peter if he knew how to play. And  _ duh!  _ All of his friends had a Gameboy, but he hadn’t been able to convince his Daddy to get him one yet. 

Bucky played with him on the Gameboy for a little while,  _ ooh _ -ing and  _ ah _ -ing at the appropriate moments. 

He was well and thoroughly distracted until Aunt May showed up a little while later. He was really surprised to see her, because usually it took three hours to see her! 

But when she rushed in the room to see Peter, she was crying too, which of course made Peter start crying again, because he was reminded of everything that happened. 

He doesn’t remember any of the conversations that were happening around him at all, because he was crying and more or less hiding in May’s shoulder the whole time, even though he was getting to big to be held (especially by her) anymore.

Aunt May took Peter back to his house after that. When he got home again, he asked if Daddy was okay, and when he was going to be able to see him again. It was then that May sat down with him on the sofa, a fresh and steaming hot chocolate gripped in his hands. He’s gotten an awful lot of treats today. 

May had carefully explained to him, still teary-eyed, that Daddy was in trouble, because he had done some bad things. She didn’t tell him what exactly Daddy had done though. She told him that she was going to stay here for a little while, so Peter could continue to go to school if he wanted. He was confused at that, because he didn’t know that going to school was an option. 

And even if it was, why wouldn’t he want to go to school? He gets to see all his friends  _ and  _ he gets to do cool science experiments, which totally makes up for having to do P.E. 

Even though it was a school night, May let him stay up late to watch a movie. It was more than dark outside when Peter was forced to put his pajamas on and brush his teeth. 

May still had tears in her eyes when she kissed him on the forehead and tucked him in.

He stayed awake long enough to hear her muffled sobs and screams into the pillow on the floor below.


	2. Adolescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **trigger warnings**
> 
> there's a fairly descriptive scene of where Peter is reminiscing on things that he experienced and were done to him.   
also a comment, there is descriptions of a psychology session, and this in no way reflects reality and should not be used or expected to be as such. i'm literally pulling this out of my ass as I go along. 
> 
> please consider yourself first, never try and strong arm your way through something that could potentially hurt you. I love you all
> 
> final note: this is a work of fiction and will stay that way and I do not condone or promote any kind of irl underage abuse/relationships, sexual or otherwise.

‘Play Time’, he called it. 

It made sense to Peter’s younger self, of course. Especially since he had been groomed for so long. 

Peter didn’t really have a definitive answer or age for exactly when it started, but he vaguely remembers an age being given to the judge when he was in the courtroom. 

He remembers sitting with Bucky and his Golden Retriever whose name was Thor and was wearing one of the vests that Peter saw occasionally on service dogs in public. They were right in saying that Thor helped him talk while he was in the courtroom. He didn’t even notice everyone staring at him with horrified eyes as he played with Thor’s ears from where he was sat, half on and half off Peter’s lap. 

“Where’d you go there, Peter?” 

Tony’s voice broke him out of the trance-like state he was stuck in, reliving the day he testified. He realized he was staring at a keychain attached to his backpack that was sitting on the floor. 

“Sorry, I remembered Thor - Bucky’s dog, who was there when I was testifying.”

Tony nods slowly and hums in response. 

He really appreciated that Tony didn’t try and forcefully break him out of his flashbacks and daydreams. He’s been spacey lately. Some of the kids at school weren’t so nice about it. He liked how softly Tony spoke to him, gently and kindly coaxing him back into himself. 

“I know how vulnerable you must feel when this is brought up. It’s not easy. I’m not saying it’s going to get any easier, either. But I also know how much you overthink and overanalyze things, and how much you benefit from bouncing ideas off of someone else. It solidifies the ideas as concepts that are tangible. And sometimes, it can do just the opposite as well.”

Peter cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve internalized this, and every time you think about it, it weighs on you more and more. Sometimes, by getting it out, and talking to someone and saying ‘hey this is a thing that has happened’ you’re able to take away the hold it has on you, ever so carefully and slowly.”

Peter says nothing in response, but feels his cheeks heating a little more. He plays with a fringe on the leg of his jeans, twirling the thread in between his fingers. 

“C’mon, Pete. Wonderkid, where are you?” Peter smiles, hiding his giggle in his shoulder. 

“You’ve hardly talked about it at all in any kind of detail since the trial. You’re stubborn as a mule Peter, I’ve been trying to be gentle about it with you, but you’re just... way too smart for that.” Tony chuckles, and then sighs.

Again, Peter laughs. It feels good to laugh here. Tony’s office has become his one and true safe space where he can talk about shit without being worried that people are going to treat him like a porcelain doll after hearing about it.

He gazes over at the corner of toys that he’s favoured over the years, but since mid middle school he’s long since abandoned them. 

“I just don’t know why this is coming back to bite me now. I’ve been fine up until now!”

Tony uncrosses his legs, and crosses them again on the other side. He tries his damndest to ignore the way Tony’s slacks are hugging his legs so well. Ignores just how much he wants to see the bulge in his pants up close and personal. But he quickly adverts his eyes, because he really doesn’t want to add ‘popping a boner in your psychologist’s office thinking about said psychologist’ to his long list of things to examine. 

“Pete. Use that big ass brain of yours. It’s pretty obvious why.”

Peter raises a single eyebrow at the older man.

“You’re at the height of puberty-” Peter loudly groans, dramatically throwing his head back on the cushion behind him. 

“Not you too! I don’t need more of this talk, I’ve got it bad enough from Aunt May.”

“Peter, just listen,” he pauses to make sure he has Peter’s attention before leaning forward on his knees and continuing.

“You’re at the stage in your growth where you want to start experimenting, y’know? People are hot. Things feel good. Your sexual and romantic attractions are forming, and you’re seeing the other kids at school around you, probably engaging in some questionable activities, and you’re curious. And that’s 100% okay.”

Tony stops, scratching his neatly trimmed beard. 

"Doing things that feel good are not inherently wrong. Exploring who you like romantically? Not wrong. Exploring who and what you like sexually? Not wrong. Touching your body and masturbating? Absolutely not wrong at all." 

Peter averts his eyes back to the thread on his pants, knowing he's unable to hide his blush. Something clicks into place long enough that he can grasp it as a coherent connection, and he feels his eyebrows rise involuntarily. He goes to open his mouth to say something, but thinks twice about it, and shakes his head. 

"What's up, kid?" Tony had noticed. Of course he noticed. 

"Nothing, it's nothing." 

"I know something's up Peter, you have a lightbulb above your head right now." 

He smiles again, but doesn't look up yet. Instead, the blush that's been festering on his cheeks starts to crawl south, until it settles uncomfortably as a tightly wound barbed wire ball in the pit of his stomach. 

He moves his hands in front of him and starts wringing them together, as if it could hide the fact how clammy they were. 

"Is… is that, uh…." he stumbles, but Tony waits kindly and patiently for him to finish.

When he speaks again, his voice has dropped near a whisper. 

"Is that why I feel, like…. guilty?… after?" 

"After what Peter? I'm not sure I follow." Peter is sure that Tony knows what he's talking about, but he's also suspect for being a bit of a sadist in Peter's mind. 

"Like, when I like…. touch myself. O-or when I, uh, masturbate. I feel bad after. Like it's really gross and  _ wrong _ and I shouldn't be doing it." 

Tony considers Peter's question for a healthy and comfortable amount of time before answering. 

"That's definitely a reason why, Peter." he shifts again, going back to crossing his legs. "There are other factors that play in, too. A lot of the time it's a religious and/or conservative nuthole parents who tell kids they're gonna go blind or grow hairy palms for masturbating, but I know your Aunt." 

Peter laughs so loud he has to cover his mouth with his hand, and he sees Tony smiling back at him. 

"Is it just when you're by yourself?" 

Peter nods. "Well… yeah. I mean, I haven't really  _ been  _ with anybody else. Like… it was like two weeks ago, and I was hanging out with someone after school, and we, like, started making out, but I just-" he has to stop himself and fight against the pit that's stuck in his throat. 

"I had to tell them to stop, because I started freaking out. Like, not because it was actually happening, but I was thinking about going further and it scared me." 

Tony settles back into the chair, leaning on the cushioned back and grabbing his notebook and pen from the side table before asking his question.

"What were you thinking about that was scaring you?" 

Peter watches the pen flick in Tony's hand, and he so badly wants to settle himself over there and trace the veins leading up his arms. But he finally realized that Tony's asked him a question and he prays to any God that will listen that Tony thinks it was because he was considering time for his answer. 

"...uh…" 

He's very pointedly avoiding looking at Tony now, but Tony is very patient in waiting for him to continue without prompting him. 

"I, uh, well… at first, it was okay. Like, I was just thinking, because they were wearing a skirt - like… running my hands under it, but then I thought about them trying to, like, touch me by maybe, trying to put their hands down my pants? And I couldn't do it, the feeling just…" 

Peter trails off, but Tony doesn't mind, or push him to continue. "So maybe it was the initiation of contact? You were fine thinking about touching, but it's the being touched part that scares you?" it's phrased like a question but he knows it's more of a statement. 

"Yeah, I think so. Because it was never-" but he stops. 

He wants to continue talking. He really does want to get it out and off of his chest. He's feeling more than frustrated lately, and he's kind of sick of carrying the baggage alone. He wants help. He wants someone else to step up and offer to help him hold it, but he wouldn’t ever ask someone to do it for him. For as long as it’s been an issue, Peter has learned that this kind of stuff isn’t something you ask for help with, so he’s been kind of stuck by himself. 

But Tony is here. And he’s offering. He’s actively  _ offering to help Peter hold his baggage.  _ And even if Tony is someone he is required to see on a set schedule for a specific reason, and not a friend or a partner like he had hoped one day, that it’s better than nothing. 

He wants to be able to go through his awkward school class on puberty and anatomy without kids in his class sending him increasingly concerned looks, because everyone knew about it at this point. 

It was a publicized case, due to his father’s place. He worked for the US government for crying out loud. He remembers his friends telling him about them seeing him and his father on the local news. It felt like a secret that they were telling him, at the time. He only learned later that it was because his friends’ parents didn’t want their kids talking or playing with Peter anymore. Like what was done to him was some kind of disease that he could pass on. Like the abhorrent perversion of his father was somehow inherited by him.

And ever since then, Peter’s learned to keep him mouth shut and his head down. Of course, he had other socialization opportunities than school, which was always good, but something about the way his friends upright abandoned him right when he needed the most support had always stuck with him. His entire world had been turned upside down and ripped inside out when he finally understood what had happened. Because to him, it was just  _ normal _ , you know? After breakfast, you brush your teeth. When you get home from school, you put away your shoes. Before bed, Play Time with Daddy. And nobody’s understood that thus far. But here Tony was, with open arms, offering to help. 

He looks to Tony again, for guidance on what decision he should make. Tony's eyes are soft around the edges and his face is gentle and relaxed. He can see laugh lines around his mouth, and the happenings of crow’s feet around his eyes, which reminded him that Tony wasn't past his mid 30's. His hair is getting long, he notices, there's a matte sheen of gel in his hair to hold it all back, and the pieces near his neck are starting to curl. 

Peter takes a breath through his nose, and exhales it out of his mouth, just like he was taught, to help slow his heartbeat and lessen his panic response. He also moves his tongue around in his mouth, stimulating saliva to come back; trying to re-activate his parasympathetic nervous system. He sits quietly for a moment before starting again. 

"It was never me, starting anything. Obviously.” he fidgets with his hands, so he doesn’t see Tony nodding in response. 

“But it makes me feel bad. Because sometimes… I would dare to say it even felt good. But then all of a sudden, this thing I was previously getting praised for was the worst thing in the world. It was a very, very bad thing that shouldn’t have happened, I was told. And it made no sense to me.”

Peter finally dares to look up, and he sees Tony listening. Not taking notes, or looking at him with his ‘assessment eyes’. He was just listening to Peter. 

“Most of the interactions and instances were positive. He always praised me. He always gave me hugs. The only time I got in trouble was when I wet the bed when I was sleeping in his room. He-” Peter stop again, and hesitantly looks up.

“It’s okay Peter, you don’t have to censor yourself around me - this is a safe space, nothing you say here will be carried anywhere else.” 

He nods, pulling his legs up under his chin from where he’s seated on the sofa. He wraps his arms around the outside of his legs. It feels weird to be able to say this stuff out loud. Not necessarily bad, but vulnerable, and he feels like he needs to protect himself.

“W-when I wet the bed… h-he would spank me. And I always cried and cried, but it never stopped it. If he was really m-mad, I wouldn’t be allowed to g-go until… he, like… f-f-finished.”

_ Damn his stutter for only popping up when he was exceptionally nervous. On that note, fuck mandatory class presentations. _

“B-but other than that, it was never anything to do with m-me doing anything, it a-always him initiating contact - like you said.”

Tony pauses for a moment, and waits for Peter to stop speaking before he scribbles a couple lines quickly into his notebook. Peter feels his stomach flutter with nerves. He still manages to continue to breathe, and move his tongue around in his mouth. Normally, he’d grab some gum, but he used the last of it when he was at school today. 

“First of all, Peter, I just want to say how proud I am of you for saying that all out loud, to me-”

Peter’s heart soars, and his face is aflame now, he's sure. 

“And I’m so proud of you for getting through that - and now you’re present, here and now. I’m so incredibly proud  _ of  _ you, and  _ for  _ you.” 

Peter hides his burning face in his knees for a moment, while Tony continues. 

“There’s nothing wrong with it feeling good, and you have nothing to feel guilty for. Your body was reacting to a stimulus that was pleasurable. That’s it. There’s nothing hidden about it. Bodies are screwy like that, and it’s designed to make you feel good. I think - I have an idea,”

Peter perks his head up, interested.

“If you want to of course, and with the permission and supervision of Aunt May, I can have Stephen come in again to work on some more exposure and boundary exercises?”

Peter happily nods. “Yeah, that’d be cool, I like Dr. Strange!” 

Tony’s already pulling his phone out to message him. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


The session with Dr. Strange went well, as it always did. Peter couldn’t really remember the title he was introduced as when he first met him however many years ago, but he’s always been involved in the physiological side of Peter’s psychology. He helps him understand the biological basis for his actions and reactions, more often than not explaining that it wasn’t _ him  _ reacting to things, it was his body and brain in tandem reacting to trained stimulus. Dr. Strange once told Peter that anything that has been trained, is able to be untrained too, and that struck him harder than he’d ever like to admit. 

Peter catches himself thinking more and more about his relationship with Tony, or a technical lack thereof. If their relationship was meant to be totally professional, why did Peter never feel the same way toward Tony than he did toward Dr. Strange? 

When Dr. Strange praised him, Peter would beam a little bit, much like a child being told that the art they made in school was good, or that they did well on a spelling test. But when Tony praised him, he would instantly flush red enough to rival a healthy tomato, and he would get butterflies low in his belly. But not like the anxious butterflies, no. These were different, but he couldn’t tell exactly how. 

And eventually, it started eating at him. Ned’s noticed that he’s been awfully fidgety in class, and that he was having trouble staying focused. He would frequently be asking to borrow Ned’s notes to fill in where he had been doodling hearts instead. 

He’s staring at the mush of food on his plate and pushing it around, every once in a while bringing a very small forkful to his lips. It doesn’t taste particularly amazing.

“Ned… what does having a crush feel like?” the words escape his mouth before he has a chance to grab them.

Ned looks at him like he’s a little confused, but there’s no judgement or concern. Peter has never felt so open with someone as he is with Ned. Sometimes he doesn’t even have to say anything, Ned will just come and sit down with him quietly when he knows he’s been having a bad day. They silently build Lego together when Peter needs it, and it speaks volumes to how much he values Ned; and how much Ned values him. 

“Uh, I dunno, it’s like… happy? I guess? Like, you know that kind of feeling you get when you have to like, talk in front of a whole lot of people, like at speech fest or for science fair or something, and it’s like, kind of excited but also kind of nervous and just feels really weird, and like, moves around-”

“Ned. Yes.”

Ned inhales after his ramble, and nods. “Kind of like that. And then, after that I guess it depends if you like, start talking to them, or start dating them or whatever, because I think it changes - at least that’s what Betty said when-” 

Dear god does Peter love Ned, but he has to tune the rest of it out, because he also doesn’t really have the capacity to hear about Betty Brant and her crushes at the moment. 

But really, that’s some food for thought isn’t it? 

When Peter walks home from school that day, there’s a little bit of an extra bounce in his step, and if May notices how he stopped on the way home to get her some flowers and chocolates, she doesn’t comment, but happily accepts and thanks Peter’s gesture anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments keep me going

**Author's Note:**

> kudos, comments, and feedback are always much appreciated and received with much love 
> 
> (if you've got to the end only to send me hate about how underage shit is wrong, congratulations I don't care, just leave but also what are you doing with your life fam, that's time that you can't get back reading something you didn't want to.)


End file.
